Chasing My Hockey Alpha
He cracked jokes, teased himself more than anyone else, and somehow made me forget at least for a little bit about the weird mark on my wrist or the way my stomach had been tight all morning.
We talked about everything. Stupid things. Random things.
Music.
Movies.
Why he swore by a particular brand of snacks.
The ridiculous hairstyle one of the guards wore last time and how he claimed it was “wolf-core aesthetic.”
He kept sending memes, dumb ones, chaotic ones, completely unnecessary ones and yet each one made me snort or cover my mouth to hide a laugh. Somehow, without even trying, he pulled me out of that fog I’d been drowning in all morning.
At some point, hours passed together.
Bab Populer